Not much really

I went to Walmart on Wednesday and it made me a little homesick. I finished 2 paintings yesterday and and another 2 today. Most of them look like vintage posters promoting underage smoking… and crack. I also talked to Griffin.

This morning I painted more of the Arts and Crafts building. It looks really nice but I got in trouble with Reid for not showing up to do bag lunches. Second time I’ve been late to programs this week. The EE director said she’s leaving at the end of March so she can find a husband and make babies.


I’m in the upper solarium blogging. The school downstairs is playing a game with loud bangs. Kids are screaming and teachers are flashing pictures… which from up here is like guns going off and kids screaming in fear. My heart nearly stopped. I feel really out of sorts now.


Looking back, I realize my blog gives the impression that I’m carefree, unphased, unphasable, but it isn’t true. Today I will document some of my more tormented thoughts and extraordinary days from pages scattered on the desk of a home I share with no one.

My pages fit within this timeframe. I used to be in love with Griffin. He turned cold. I cried, smoked cigarettes, shat piss and didn’t eat for a week… I quit my job, moved out of my apartment, dropped out of school, booked a flight to Alabama, got a job in NY, booked a flight to NY, then spent 3 weeks with family that proved to be the most tender weeks of my life. I didn’t realize before just how big their love was.

I worked at Frost Valley all summer as the village chief of Lakota. Some time around August I realized I was happy with Griffin but that I was also happy without him (just as I was sometimes sad with him and also sad without him). I spent a lot of time reading about emotions. I had several other romantic encounters.

I took a job working with the environmental education program at Frost Valley in the fall. I moved into cabin B. I learned about nature. I made lasting friendships. I went to Ireland. In December I decided not to get involved in a relationship until I turn 30. In Januaty I decided I would never marry. In February I changed my mind.

My rants and murmurs are usually about love.

Dear Andrew,
It’s beautiful here in the mountains. Fall is partly here so it’s windy and cool but sunny. All of our kids are happy, even the awkward ones and nostalgia has already softened the staff.
I got that year-round position so I’ll be living in a private cabin in front of Hussey Field. I can’t wait for the trees to turn and to hear a marching band at least once. I honestly feel like I’m exactly where I should be at this moment.
I hope you are well. I can imagine you’re patiently awaiting your Spanish bride’s return and listening to jazz, typing and drinking. Send Lena my love.
I’m excited for Joe. I hope everything works out between him and his wife. He has a great heart so I’m sure whatever happens will be for the best.
Since I am now a New York resident, I won’t see you soon but I will see you at some point. Thanks again for your generosity and wisdom. I wish you the best-


A letter I never sent because I have no way of ever getting in touch with Andrew again. I met him at a bar on Amsterdam one night in late July. I had a butterfly tattoo on my forehead from summer camp. He had the deepest voice I’ve ever heard. We spent the whole night drinking wine, listening to music and philosophizing. The next morning we went to the roof of the Mett and drank wine all day next to a Richard Serra sculpture.

Dear Griffin,
I know now that xxxxxx xxxxx x xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx. And I know now that it’s ok and sensicle to say that I was happy with you and I’m happy now. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx x xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx.
I am working on an honest letter…


I don’t want fucking TaLK! I want Griffin to hold me and I want it to be yesterday

And I want Yorkshire and THE NEW HOUSE

I don’t want to worry!!!!



I don’t want to keep starting over and OVER AND OvER!

I don’t even REALLY love anyone- disposable- still a muse- just older. The real world is fast approaching. Can’t hide for much longer

Dad just called- guess he somehow knows I need to be home in some way- to be real because I’m not real- not today.

I knew this painting would be tough when I began with a sketch. Since I’ve abandoned the oils in conversation, who will I ask if I have a question? The paint’s like, “What Bitch? Figure it out Miss-Know-It-All!” And I’m like, I dunno. I dunno… and that’s where we are now. Do I abandon my original idea in order to discuss with the already offended paint? It looks as though I have no choice. I’ll consult the journals and give paint some time to cool off.
I ripped off cigarette’s pants. Paint seems pleased. We’ll see what we can do from here.

October Dream:

I was working at a restaurant in a house in a neighborhood when I tried to kill a camper- Sam, a heavyset kidney camper from 4th session. I was trying to suffocate her with a bandana in a panic because I had already let her know my intentions and I had already hurt her too much not to kill her. I failed but I didn’t get in any trouble.
I was getting married as part of my college graduation ceremony. All the graduates were paired up. I had to marry Jay. It was understood that this marriage wasn’t for keeps- a man came around to put jewelry on all the girls. He pierced my tongue which pinched but made me feel beautiful at first, then he put a necklace on me.
I started to not want to be married- I was on my way down the isle when I started to cry. My tongue felt heavy, my dress was hot and I was tripping over it. I stumbled into the bathroom where I saw myself. I took out the tongue ring- my tounge swelled up the size of a golfball but hung from my mouth like a single testicle. I spit blood until I woke up.
A long black velvet dress, short black hair.
My dad had a lot of fine art- outdoor sculpture mostly- at my mom’s house at 348 Senate Drive. Golden maniquins, other things, stormy out. A salt and pepper vineager ceramic thing in the kitchen with restaurant prices on it. Great craftsmanship, not at all practical. The neighbors said this is the second time they’ve heard me trying to kill that little girl.
Someone hit my rearview mirror with their car-door. I documented it on my camera phone.

Excerpts 1-7 from my first journal since Griffin:

1. I went for a run tonight and it felt so good I think I might do it again tomorrow. Earlier today, right before my shower, I felt so ugly. I just stared at my skinny little body in the mirror and thought, No wonder-
My hair was frizzy because I don’t have my proper shower equipment, conditioner, shampoo, curl control crème, Lambsey’s hairbrush. My private areas were sprouting dark, coarse regrowth, I smelled like Jim’s Seafood and Cheapside. I looked cheap with mascara smudged beneath my eyes. My skintone, uneven and yellow drew attention to my small breasts, thin waist and stretch marks.
Then I took a shower, not my usual shower; the water pressure was more intense, I didn’t have my poof, nothing to wash with but a bar of soap. The kind of beauty I own is learned and requires many products. Even after washing and shaving I wasn’t the clean I’m comfortable with- usually. But this time, I was comfortable, so comfortable that I didn’t even put on my makeup afterward.

2. Tonight I babysat Marcus. We spent a lot of time outside because I couldn’t manage getting us inside. We had dinner at Miguel’s with Memaw and Papaw. We listened to Echos, had some milk and crackers- only one diaper changing experience then off to bed for the baby!
I missed Griffin when I thought about how pretty I looked in my white dress. I picture us having dinner in Midway and him trying to kiss me. I hold his hand and we promise to love each other always. I look so pretty with sparkly hair and glowing skin. I don’t picture him much. Whenever I try I just envision his unruly tuft of white hair and coarse orange mustaches.
I didn’t run today but I ate more than usual Tomorrow evening I’d like to run again. It felt so good yesterday and tonight my body feels that sweet soar and toned-ness.
These days run together- these days of Memaw’s house, as though I probably won’t be seeing her again.
I didn’t have any toothpaste up here so I brushed my teeth without tonight. I sat here writing for awhile then realized it makes sense to wash my face even though my teeth can’t be very clean.
While preparing to was my face, I realized Memaw had cleaned the sink for me. The knobs were shiny and there weren’t splotches everywhere like there had been the night before, and the bleach was out on the counter- still is.
I can tell she loves me because the sink is clean and I worry that Griffin couldn’t tell I loved him because our home wasn’t clean. I swear I’m just messy. I’m messy. I suck.
I used one of those Olay things to clean my face tonight- I used those same things when I stayed with Griffin at the Reverend’s, when he made me tomato soup and a munster grilled cheese on raisin cinnamon bread because I was sick and he loved me.

3. Today I hugged Griffin for several minutes and found out he has asthma. I never knew that before and I wonder why he would have kept that from me for so many weeks. I worry that it will kill him.

4. I still haven’t been able to run my whole loop. I thought surely I’d be able to tonight but I didn’t. Tomorrow I’ll be better. It would feel really good to do it before I leave Saturday.
I hope Memaw feels better in the morning. When she told me she felt ready to die, I told her to quit taking vitamins. Surely she knew I was kidding. It’s amazing how young she looks for her age. A lot younger than any of those old farts down at Jim’s Seafood. I have to get so far away from that place. I have to. It makes me feel dead inside when it comes up in conversation. To be there is no problem, it’s imagining it and what it’s done to my family that’s difficult.

5. I used my anger as momentum. I was like Fuck that mutherfuckin cocksucker and the loop was cleared before I knew it. I hate driving to Lexington now like I used to hate driving to Frankfort. I feel cheated, overextended, exposed, belittled, ill-advised, conceited, smug and wary.

6. This is the first time I’ve seen my dad in close to 3 years. I saw the silver welcome home banner before anything else. I immediately knew who was holding it in an airport crowded with hundreds.
I never realized how much Kathy talks before. I’ve always wanted to be a bigger talker but now I see that that just isn’t who I am. I just talk how I talk.
It’s so funny that I’m trying to take myself so seriously right now and Kathy keeps chatting or sniffing the inside of her book or asking me questions. I can’t be serious now- I don’t need to be- I wish I could be this un-serious- or probably, definitely more, always.
“To live is to be aware.” SARK

7. He’ll be texting me soon to let me know when I can work out my end of things with the phone company. I want to text back-
Thanks, PS, I hate you
Or Great, thanks. And thanks for always paying my phone bill but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate you today.
Or great, now go fuck yourself.
Or how’s herpes treating you?
How’s that asthma coming fatass?
Great, now die
Thanks, thank god I’m that much closer to breaking all ties
Thanks, I hope you die on your birthday- alone- with crabs.
Thanks, you suck.
But probably, I will just not text anything back because I don’t want to hurt him ever.

November Dream:

(I think I’m a bit TenSE- way to tense for that fucking pencil

And these tiny fucking margins!)

Last night I dreamt I stole a bunch of junk from a megastore and this old woman was really wasting my time trying to help me ring in the few things I was actually buying. She kept having to start over- and every time she’d start over, I’d have to remember and differentiate between the things I was buying and the things I was stealing.
A couple of nights ago I dreamed Griffin was walking out on me or else kicking me out but then the whole scenario would just rework itself again and again. It’s like he was David or something. So indecisive and mello-dramatic. I woke up pissed at myself for not even imagining (especially in my dreams!!!) that I should just leave him- say, “fuck it” and be done. I was such a loser.

Beginning of a Short Story:

Before the collecting, before the potted trees and the gun, Magil enjoyed macaroni necklaces and making films about her life in the forest. Macaroni was such a delicious word and so ownable and lovely. Fresh reds were best, like when the newtles were squishy and soft and pulsing. Then she would dye them blue and careen as they eased into an earthen purple.
Lay them out and name them. “You are my friends and I love you and you and you and you in your yellows.” Fascinated by the detail she would watch them dry with splotches until an evenness in pigment declared them ready for adornment.
“Red, blue, yellow, green, magenta, teal and oh the browns. I’ll name you each Magil.” So she did. Magil licked the end of a rotting thread and shove him through each macaroni, tied him together, doubled him around her neck and looked into a foggy mirror.
So much ugliness in that mirror, “ But not you my loveys. You sing. You have so much heart and glory.” Magil magil magil magil Again and again until they just read pasta pasta pasta pasta. Some one said pasta. “Oh, I love your pasta necklace, or what pretty pasta” or something and things changed somehow.
“Pasta, pasta, macaroni, Magil, so stupid. So fucking stupid. Stupid!” Magil shoveled the necklaces into 3 jars- one pickle, one jam and one peanut butter and plastic, and lidded them and left them to die.
Magil looked into the mirror, pulled off her dark green sweater and cried. She touched her neck carefully noting where each color had been before. Her body was dirty there and when she rubbed, mushy tan skin rolled onto her fingers. Rubbing long enough, the red appeared where it once was, then a purple, then an even deeper red.

5-8 Inches

Dear Bluebird,

I’ve missed you- and I should write more.

My feet are so cold I’m dragging them when I walk. I just ran night snow tubing with Kam and now I’m eating lettuce, ranch dressing and Frito’s with hot chocolate. I’m a good sort of tired. I’m the, “I won’t put tomato or cucumber on my salad; instead I’ll dump a bag of chips on top with every intention of ignoring the lettuce and fork and eat the chips, soggy with ranch, with my fingers, “sort of tired. I have a feeling of entitled gluttony.

It’s been a long but productive day- well, sort of. I painted 3 walls in the arts and crafts building but they bother me. You know when something’s ugly, and it just is? It’s always been there, always been ugly. It goes relatively unnoticed (most often, completely unnoticed!)… so by fixing this ugly thing up, it’s more like creating a thing in the first place. No one remembers the first thing. If the new thing isn’t perfect, it’s like, well, why did so-and-so make this ugly thing? or rather, why did Adele make this ugly wall? These 3 ugly walls.

One of the walls is made of very old warbly wood. I painted it a light grey blue, letting the wood peak through in places. Another wall is yellow. I had David paint it last week. Today I painted eyeballs all over it. The last wall was the ceiling. Tacoma village had painted a large splatter paint mural on a side wall which carried onto the ceiling. I wanted to remedy its overhang and give it a frame so I painted an entire ceiling– mostly blues with 3 suns and clouds.

In retrospect, they are all pretty lovely designs; It’s just a matter of them working together.

More interestingly, I had my city-date with Ethan this week. He was as fun and sweet and witty as I’d remembered. I can’t say I was ever completely comfortable despite his generosity and affectionate nature, but then again, I’ve never liked him for making me feel at ease. Especially at camp when he had his posse around. Dealing with him was like taking on five or six lifers. When ever we were getting on it was like being inducted into a society but when we were off, I was excommunicated. Outside of the valley, that doesn’t really exist between us but my initial feelings were a bit residuous of that. I like Ethan either way. There’s just something about him, but I’ll never like that feeling of feeling like an outsider who needs to prove herself.

The day we spent together was nice. He cooked for me which was wonderful. I had a lot of wine. We watched GOOD EATS, played 20 questions, downloaded music, delivered a fax, ordered delivery sushi (not so good) and talked A LOT. The next day when I was at a restaurant alone waiting for THERE WILL BE BLOOD to start, I felt myself missing him and hoping his day was going well, and wanting to take care of him, a part of myself that I was sure was slowly dying. It made me really happy to feel that way and when he called me on the bus, my stomach did a somersault which was also fun.

But now I’m back in the grind. Wind chimes and yoga baby!

Buried in snow,


Ashoken Winter Weekend

I just returned from a weekend at Ashoken. Brendan, David, George (the uninhibited one), Giles, Amber, Reed, Brett, Art, D Hips and myself were all in attendance. We lived together with 2 other people in a lodge called Lakeview.
Ashoken winter weekend is a conference at Ashoken campus meant for networking with environmental educators. There were about 40 of us. We did hikes, slate carving, astronomy, a workshop about Indonesia, drumming and blacksmithing among other things. At night we went to the sauna where we’d heat up to 200 degrees and the bravest (not me) would jump into the literally freezing lake to cool off. All the FV cats would then shower in the dorm we shared, fart it up, look at pictures and video footage of people jumping in the lake and retreat to the dining hall.
The food at Ashoken was phenomonally fresh. I loved the purple lettuce, green beans, salmon, humus, ham and bread. The chef was a brilliantly wise looking older man with gray hair pulled into a sweet mullet ponytail. He loves to talk about the politics of camp food. I never caught his name even though he was one of my favorite characters.
Brendan, David and I really came together as a team. We’re an untouchable triangle. Randomly in conversation it was said without question that if Brendan had to kill me or Dave, he’d kill me, but I’d kill Dave and Dave would kill him if given that same choice with the other two people.
During trade blanket, Amber got 5 rabbit skins and 2 handmade clubs off this guy- Jared I think, for her phone number. That girl’s got the game down. On the bus home Art said the first thing he was going to do when he got back is rub one out. I think Brett was a little sad overall that he didn’t get a chance to share his plethora of kids nature songs during our music party (where Brendan and I showed off our new badass drumming skilz) Giles has fallen madly in love with saunas. D Hips has found yet another place he would rather be than Frost Valley.
Everyone was beautiful. Old friends began to sparkle and the new ones, after just one weekend feel like a crazy extended family that waits for its newfound gen y’s to come back to the woods. I feel like I will see Ashoken again. Hell, it’s only an hour away and if I can entice a driver with the glories of sauna relaxation, maybe I can see Jonathan again and bask in his friendly, contagious, Owen Wilsonesque ways. But if I can’t get there, it’s OK because he’s coming here on the 24th to party in the valley. I’m a smart girl. I wouldn’t write off a badass new friend just because the calendar says it’s time.
Last night I had a dream I was in love with a hermaphrodite who was killed by terrorists. Then Art and I saved a bunch of children. I pistol whipped a relentlessly happy terrorist, dyed my hair black and ran away through the fields behind the castle. I’m going to look up that dream before my 49% battery power wastes away and I’m haunted by the same scenario again tonight. I’m gonna guess it has something to do with me being a sex-is-sex gen y’er with an indefinite future. If it’s any good I’ll post it- Till then!